


In A Family Way

by kribban



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Case Fic, Childbirth, Elemental Magic, Gen, Graphic Description, Magical Pregnancy, Midwifery, WIP Big Bang
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-18
Updated: 2018-07-18
Packaged: 2019-06-12 13:29:24
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 14,023
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15340866
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kribban/pseuds/kribban
Summary: When a hunt for an elemental witch goes wrong, Claire Novak finds herself nine months pregnant. If that wasn't enough, the baby's got magical powers, and if that wasn't enough, yet another witch is trying to kill her. Luckily, Sam and Dean know someone who can help with both the magic and the delivery; Rowena.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This story was abandoned for over a year until the WIP Big Bang gave me the boost to finish it. Big thanks to my beta reader jdl71. 
> 
> The lovely artwork has been created by the talented Twisted_Slinky who exceeded my expectations by far!

 

 

The glass windows on the ground floor had all been run through by branches. The trees that were responsible for this unchecked act of destruction pressed against the exterior of the house, their roots already digging in under the foundation. 

At some point, the large veranda had probably been a cozy spot to soak up the sun, but it had long since been shattered from beneath by a strong birch tree. 

If this was a scene from a book it would be a metaphor for the conflict between civilization and nature. Most definitely the kind of "classics" they forced you to read in Junior English. 

Not that Claire would have been around to read it. Her education had fallen in priority pretty quickly after Gran had died. Literature wouldn't keep you safe. Her gun on the other hand... 

She took it out and stepped carefully over the broken boards. Luckily, the front door was open just enough for her to slip through without testing the old hinges. 

A wet, moldy stench hit her. Small scatterings of dried leaves and dirt covered the floor and the spiral stairway was run over with moss.

There were things growing _everywhere_. 

Delicate flowers and weeds sprung out from every crevice and tree branches were peeking out through cracks in the walls. Whatever materials had been used to build the house didn't stand a chance against the relentless, merciless growth. 

Claire's stomach clenched and the eggs she'd had that morning seemed on the verge of making a comeback. She'd never quite mastered the art of silent puking so she took deep, slow breaths and thought about how messy things would get if she was discovered here and now. 

Fear was a useful tool when wielded properly. 

When her body was back under her control, she began to climb the stairs. The moss was so thick that each step had her sink down a little and she had to hold on to the railing to keep from slipping. It wasn't a good idea to hold the gun with just one hand, but it wouldn't be a good idea to fall to her death either. 

It wasn't until the last few steps that she could see what was waiting for her at the top. 

Foliage. A rectangular room. 

At the end of the room stood a woman. She was hunched over some kind of workbench as slender vines curled around her head and shoulders. 

Both hands on the gun again. ”Hey! Hands up!”

The woman turned and looked at Claire in confusion. She seemed to be in her mid-to-late thirties and had a heart-shaped face and warm brown eyes. The leaves trembled delicately. 

”Who are you?” Her voice was a soft, warm pool to sink into. 

Claire took her finger off the trigger guard. ”The cashier at the bank. Did you kill him?”

The woman nodded calmly and held out her palms. “I did. What do you want to know?”

Claire squeezed the trigger and the other woman staggered backward into the bench. For just a moment fear flashed in her eyes, but then she let out a deep breath and straightened herself. 

”It's just silver!”

She laughed in relief and scratched the bullet hole like it was a mosquito bite. ”I'm not a werewolf! You need charmed bullets to kill a witch. What kind of witch slayer are you if you don't know that?” 

”I... I don't...” Claire's hands clenched tightly around the gun. There was no point in running now. ”Still can slow you down, though.”

The witch let out a frustrated sigh. ”I don't have time for this.”

Before Claire could react, the gun had been pulled from her hands and she was flat on her back, pinned to the ground by something scratchy. The fresh scent of pine needles hit her nostrils and she instinctively closed her eyes. Images appeared: bodies, torn apart and mutilated. Shredded flesh. Death. 

She screamed, but none of that happened. 

After a few terrifying moments, she opened her eyes again. 

The witch was still standing in the same spot. Her hands were balled into fists and she was looking towards the ceiling nervously. She seemed to be listening for something and when Claire could finally focus on anything other than her panic she heard it too. 

When she'd checked the forecast for tonight it had stated there would only be a light breeze, but the wind was howling and causing the roof tiles to rattle. It was as if a storm had formed out of nothing. 

”Okay, new plan,” the witch said sharply and grabbed a few items from the bench which Claire just now realized was an altar. She pulled on a jacket, stuffed some of the objects in her pockets and waved her hands in the air. 

Leaves tickled the side of Claire's face and a vine grew quickly to cover her mouth. She screamed again and it came out muffled. 

”It's actually a good thing you stopped by,” the witch said and kneeled in front of her. ”I've got a big job for you. Very important. You'd better not fuck it up.” 

She was holding one of the objects she'd taken from that altar; a large crystal that shifted in colors. When she started chanting it suddenly turned bright yellow. 

Heat flooded into Claire and spit dribbled out of the corners of her mouth. She was floating, she was on fire and then.... everything went black.

 

Dean scanned the room quickly and found the mop of blonde hair he was looking for. When they approached, Claire lifted her head and he was taken back by how exhausted she looked. Her blue eyes were glossy and her face was pale, worn out but also softer somehow. She looked bloated, like she'd been crying a lot, or maybe... 

Sam let out a harsh gasp beside him. 

Both of Claire's hands were resting on her extended belly, and she wrapped her arms tighter around herself. 

“Can you stop staring? You make me feel like a freak.”

Dean closed his jaws with a snap and tried to shake himself out of it. “Uh...”

“Sorry,” Sam forced a smile and pushed Dean down into the seat across from her. “We're just... surprised.”

Claire let out a sigh and turned the laminated menu over in her hands a few times. “Way ahead of you.” 

Dean couldn't stop staring at her and after a few seconds she looked up. “What?” 

“I can't believe you didn't listen to Jody!” He leaned forward on his elbows and lowered his voice so the few people who'd found their way to this godforsaken diner wouldn't hear. “I'm sorry, but what part of 'wrapping it' didn't you understand?”

”Dean,” Sam said sharply as the waitress came by to take their orders, barely looking at them. As soon as she had left Sam's expression softened and he turned to Claire with a little shrug. 

“So you had a birth control failure. It could happen to anyone.”

Claire stared at him for a moment and a look of revulsion crossed her face. “You think... Eww!” 

She reached for her phone and tapped it furiously before holding it out for them. “I took that last week.” 

The photo showed Claire cradling a Starbucks Unicorn latte to her equally Pepto Bismol-colored T-shirt; a T-shirt that covered a flat stomach. 

Dean let out a sharp sigh. “Whole story. Now.”

 

Sam was actually frowning. “What do you mean 'grew a tree' through him? Like bamboo torture?” 

Claire showed them a picture and Dean was suddenly hungry for shish kabob. 

“Rumors say he lived for a few minutes,” she said quietly. “I got this from my source. I, uh... The local PD didn't buy my cover, and neither did the people at the bank, so I asked around at the high school until I struck gold. The guy who sold this to me... his dad is the arborist the police called in. An arborist is like a tree doctor.”

Dean already knew what an arborist was. ”And then what?” 

”He said this is a Chinese Red Birch. It's not native to North America, but there's a whole grove of them planted outside of town. I went there and found an old house.” Claire tucked a strand of hair behind her ear and turned all her attention to her eggs and sausage. ”I confronted the murderer. She confessed and I shot her, but I didn't have the right bullets, and –”

”Hold up. You didn't know she was a witch?” 

”Yeah, but I thought silver worked on everything.”

Dean clenched his fists under the table. ”Silver works on shifters and werewolves. You need witch-killing bullets to kill witches. Didn't you know that?”

Claire flinched, but she refused to look at him. ”Something spooked her. I really thought she was gonna kill me, but instead she said she had a job for me. She did some kind of spell and I passed out. When I woke up, she was dead.”

”Dead?” Sam raised an eyebrow. ”You think the spell killed her?”

”No, she was electrocuted or something. The house was pretty wrecked, so I figured whoever was after her had gotten to her. Before I passed out, it sounded like a storm was coming, but the weather was clear when I woke up.” 

She looked down on her stomach and sighed. ”I went back to my room, slept all day, and woke up with this squatter. It's the witch's baby,” she said flatly.

Dean found this all really hard to believe. ”Baby? How do you know it's not some kind of plant?”

That made her look at him. ”Because it's kicking the shit out of me, that's how.”

They were all quiet for a few seconds, and then Sam laughed a little nervously. ”We've seen transfer of death before, but not, uh, transfer of life.”

”Guess I'm patient Zero.” 

Now that he knew the full story, Dean was impressed that Claire wasn't passed out drunk in her motel room. God knows, he would be if the situation was reversed. 

”How are you holding up?”

”I'm handling it. I'm sore, and the Braxton-Hicks are a bitch, but I stopped throwing up two days ago. I can't get much bigger now, so...” She pursed her lips and tried very hard to look nonchalant. ”I'll drop it off somewhere safe.”

Dean knew that look. She was figuring things out on her own with the help of the Internet, and he could relate. He was used to patching himself or Sam up after a hunt. He knew how to sterilize a needle and how to suture a wound, but this... This was out of his league, and it was definitely out of hers. 

”Claire, listen. There's a hospital in the next town over. Jody set you up with health insurance, right?”

”I can't go to a hospital.”

”Dean's right.” Sam was using his softest tone, the one he used on the most traumatized witnesses. ”We can help you work the case, but you need an obstetrician.” 

”I _can't_ ,” Claire repeated more harshly and slipped her hand under the large sweatshirt she was wearing. She pinched her stomach and a sudden tremor went through the building.

Nothing moved, but the vibration felt like a small explosion had gone off in the basement. A quick glance around the room told him that the others had felt it too. 

”Unless the fault lines have changed since I was in high school, I'd say Junior takes after his mom.” 

”There's more.” Claire reached over the table and picked a pumpkin seed off of Sam's sandwich.

For a few seconds Dean watched the slithering growth, and then he snatched the small plant out of her hand before anyone else would see it. The movement immediately stopped and he squashed the plant in his napkin. He gritted his teeth. ”Can you control it?”

”Nope. I used a strawberry shampoo the other day. I would have stopped to take a selfie, but I'm kind of protective of my scalp, you know.” 

Sam gave him a knowing look. ”Vegetation, earthquakes, wind, lightning. Sound familiar?”

”Yeah,” Dean nodded. ”Elemental magic.” 

Claire snorted. ”Sounds like something hippies are into.” 

Dean had never met a hippie who liked skewering people. 

”Nag Champa or not, they pack a pretty powerful punch. We've never met one, but some friends of ours have.”

She looked away. ”Are they always evil?”

”No one's _always_ evil.”

He had a pretty good guess what she was thinking. A magical pregnancy was one thing, a magical pregnancy with a potentially dangerous, super-powered fetus was another. He glanced over at Sam, hoping his brother would back him up. 

”Look, we should call Cas in on this.”

”No! Absolutely not.”

He was suddenly reminded of Kelly's refusal to give up her baby's powers. He didn't know how much Claire knew about that whole situation and Cas' part in it. 

”Cas wouldn't harm you. You know that, right?”

Claire looked at him in confusion for a split-second before she shrugged. ”I don't need his help.”

”You might need healing afterward,” Sam said softly, and Christ, was that a line of thinking Dean did not want to pursue.

”Why? Women have been giving birth since the dawn of time.” 

”Yeah, and half of them died of sepsis,” Dean spat out. ”Do you really think you can.... all on your own? Do you even know _how_?”

Her jaw clenched and for a second it looked like she was about to cry. ”You can't tell Castiel,” she said sharply after a few seconds. 

”Okay, uh, we actually do know someone else who might be able to help. A witch.” Sam said suddenly, and Dean steeled himself for the incredibly stupid idea he was about to hear.

”Really, Sam? We don't know anyone less evil?”

”Look, it's obviously not a normal pregnancy. We don't know how the spell was written, or how it will affect Claire in the long run. Plus we need to make sure the baby's magical powers don't get out of hand.”

It sounded perfectly reasonable, like Rowena hadn't tried to kill them several times. 

”Is she a midwife?” Claire said suddenly. ”Alex likes this show - 'Call the Midwife'. It's set in the '50's and has these super-dramatic birth scenes that are really gross, but the midwives are pretty awesome.”

”Rowena's a very powerful witch. And she's a mom,” Sam supplied helpfully, and the look of relief on Claire's face told Dean that this was the end of the discussion. 

 

There was a Ramada Inn by the highway exit, and they told the middle-aged woman at the front desk that their cousin needed to be comfortable while waiting for her husband. The woman fussed over Claire and set them up with a nice room with extra pillows that Claire used to prop herself up with on the bed. 

It was weird to see her like this. She still looked like a kid, but also like a grown-ass woman who was about to be a mom. 

”You said the bank wouldn't talk to you. Well, they'll talk to me. Sam, you wanna stay with Claire and see what you can find on elemental magic?”

Sam shrugged out of his jacket and sat down at the small table next to the kitchenette. ”Yeah, no problem. I can access the Men of Letters library from here.”

 

Dean used the bathroom to change into his suit. The bathroom was well-cleaned and pretty big and even had a bathtub. If Claire had to have the kid outside of a hospital, at least it would be in a comfortable place. Shit, just thinking about it made him feel sick. He badly wanted to let Jody know, but Claire had made him promise he wouldn't tell anyone what was going on. He could kind of get why she didn't want to tell Cas - the two of them had a seriously complicated history - but Jody had been a solid influence in her life for two years. Why was Claire so hellbent on he and Sam being her only back-up on this? Well, he and Sam, _and_ the midwife from Hell. Urgh. 

He didn't know what kind of threats or promises Sam had made, but Rowena had agreed to help and was on her way. Dean would make damn sure he was back by the time she arrived. 

Driving back to town took half an hour, and when he pulled up in front of the bank he'd counted seven foreclosed homes. Hopefully, they wouldn't need any of them this time around, but he felt better knowing where they were. 

The bank office was squeezed in between a hairdresser's and a Curves gym. Several wooden boards had been crudely nailed to the roof. The manager was stressed out and looked thrilled when Dean flashed him his badge. He introduced himself as Stuart Binkey, offered Dean one of those coffees that come out of a capsule, and took him into the vault.

”The insurance company is refusing to pay because they think we secretly grew a tree here for thirty years.” He pointed to a gaping hole in the floor and looked at Dean hopefully. ”But they might change their minds if a federal investigation shows that it was some kind of hi-tech weapon used by a bank robber.” 

Dean hunched down and traced the jagged contour of the cavity. It was at least three feet deep. ”Is this steel-reinforced concrete?”

”Standard issue. The ceiling too.” 

Dean looked up and let out a whistle. The ceiling had been all but demolished in what seemed to be a rough circle, a few feet wide. He could glimpse the bottom of the wooden covers he had seen from the street.

”What happened to the tree?”

Stuart scoffed. ”The police destroyed it after they'd cut Francesco down. I begged them to at least X-ray it, to see if it contained any metal parts, but they wouldn't listen. They did figure out what type it was, a...”

”Chinese Red Birch, yeah, I heard.”

”I made sure to take a lot of pictures, though. You want to see?” He gestured towards his office but Dean shook his head and stood up.

”I'm more interested in what was stolen. Do you have the list? I didn't have time to read the police report,” he added when he saw the suspicious look on Stuart's face. 

Somehow that always did the trick. People were so eager to help.

”Thirteen thousand dollars in cash, but that's not the interesting part.”

Dean made sure to smile as widely as he could. ”What is the interesting part?”

”For starters, what wasn't stolen. The burglar, whoever he was, tried to break into one of the safety deposit boxes. The lock was subjected to quite a bit of force, but these old things are tougher than they look. Takes quite a bit of time to crack open. My guess is poor Francesco walked in on the whole thing.” He let out a sigh like he was talking about a minor inconvenience. 

”I have to say, you don't seem all that broken up about one of your employees being murdered on the job.” 

”Francesco wasn't exactly the nicest person in the world, but he was good at his work. His death will cost us a lot more than ten thousand dollars,” Stuart added quickly. ”In case you're wondering if I had anything to do with it.”

Dean didn't. ”Did you open the box?”

”We didn't have an owner on file, but we did have a transaction date; May 22, 1935. The police asked if we had a master key, which we of course don't, so I brought in a locksmith. The box contained an occult book.”

”Occult?”

Stuart nodded. ”It looked like something the Freemasons would use for their rituals. There were a lot of strange societies around here during the Depression.”

”And the police, did they take the safety deposit box with them?

”Yes, and the book too. I doubt we'll get it back.” He folded his arms across his chest and gave Dean a challenging look. ”So do you have a theory on what happened here?” 

Dean looked around the room like he was inspecting it. ”Yeah, you were hit with an RTG-device. Nasty piece of technology.”

”RTG?”

”Rapid Tree Growth. One of the first times it's been used in a robbery.”

Stuart looked pleased and he rubbed his hands together. ”There was one other thing of interest. I've been meaning to call the police back, but now that you're here...”

He disappeared into his office and returned with a clear plastic bag that he placed in Dean's open palm. Inside the bag was a skeleton key tied to a red silk band. 

”I found this on the floor while the police were cutting down the tree. I put it in my pocket for safekeeping and...” he shrugged. 

”And you thought you'd hold onto it in case the investigation didn't go your way?” 

Dean could picture it now: a frustrated and cynical man trying to find what little leverage he could to protect his livelihood. 

”What do you think it is, Mr. Binkey?”

”It looks very similar to the keys to some of the other deposit boxes from that time, but it obviously didn't fit the lock. My guess is that at some point the lock was changed, and the killer wasn't aware.” Stuart sighed. ”Like I said, the safety deposit box was opened in 1935. Who knows how many times that key has been inherited?”

 

Sam had given Claire his spare tablet and shown her how to navigate the Men of Letter's library classification system. Witchcraft was filed under C, naturalist magic under CY. Sam was combing through CBF, magical disciplines in Northern America, when Claire sucked in a sharp breath.

Her face was scrunched up in pain but when she realized he was watching, she just looked embarrassed. 

”Braxton-Hicks. No big deal.”

The tab with the article on childbirth was still open, and he shot a quick glance at it. ”That's pre-contractions, right? That doesn't mean labor's started.” 

”Yeah.” She laughed shakily. ”They're nothing like the real ones will be.” 

”Look, you can still change your mind about going to the hospital. We'll figure out some way to contain the magic.”

”Trying not to think about it, 'kay? I'll be fine. It's not like this is the worst thing that's happened to me.” Claire pressed her lips together and used her thumb to swipe across the screen. ”This index though, totally worthless.”

That would have hurt his feelings a little if it wasn't so obvious she was changing the subject. Sam scrolled back up until he found the short text he had noticed earlier. 

”Well, I've had better luck. There's at least one type of coven that fits the bill; the Children of the Moon and Sun. It was popular around the late 19th century and went out of style a few decades later. It was always made up of four witches, one for each element. The one you met was Earth, which is associated with vegetation, seismic activity, decay, and, uh... fertility.”

Claire gave him a dirty look. ”Does it say anything about a pregnancy transfer?”

”Uh, no. But it does say that each witch bound themselves to a single element and that they shared their magical abilities and knowledge with their biological children. This didn't make them weaker, but stronger. Apparently, there was some sort of cumulative effect.” 

”So whoever has the most kids wins.” 

”Guess so.” Sam finished reading the short article. Whoever had written it hadn't had a lot of information on hand. ”Balance between the elements is extremely important, the optimal make-up of the coven is two males and two females... That's it.” 

”So maybe our psycho killer got pregnant one too many times, and the others decided to take her out. Maybe that's why she needed to stow the kid away. Come back for it later.”

”Yeah, maybe. In any case, this explains why you can do the things you can. The fetus is tapping into the powers associated with the Earth element, and as long as the two of you are connected, you have them too.” 

She gave a barely noticeable nod and her eyelashes fluttered. ”That first hour, after I woke up. I thought maybe all the stuff that's happened to me had added up and....” 

”You thought the powers were yours.” 

”Yeah,” she said softly and gave a dismissive wave of her hand. ”But, you know. I'm looking forward to being able to eat fruit again.” 

 

There was a distinct lack of elemental magic in the spell archive, but it didn't matter because Dean soon returned with all the answers.

”The witch was after a grimoire which is now in the capable hands of the Blue Hill Police Department. Luckily, they were more than willing to help the FBI,” Dean said and held up his tablet triumphantly. 

Sam let Claire sit in the chair while the three of them looked through the photos. The pages were written in different styles and with differently colored ink; some in Latin, some in English. There were also passages with some sort of numerical code Sam wasn't familiar with. Most of the pages had spots and stains in varying shades of brown. 

”Blood?”

”Oh, among other things,” Dean said wryly and Claire wrinkled her face in disgust but didn't take her eyes off the screen. 

He slapped his hand on her shoulder and gave it a little shake. ”How about you give it a break, kid?”

She twisted her neck to look up at him. ”Don't worry, I'm not getting whammied. It just looks really familiar.” 

”Okay, that's it. You're done.” 

Claire looked like she was going to argue but got up and walked over to the bed without as much as an eye roll. She settled against the mountain of pillows and crossed her legs at the ankles. 

”I think the witch was killed because she got pregnant. Sam says balance was really important in those types of covens, and if her element got too strong, that would throw it off.” 

”Well, she got fried; I'd call that a zero-sum game.” Dean raised an eyebrow. ”And if anyone comes after you, that'll be the last thing they ever do.”

”So I'm bait.” Claire nodded as though that prospect didn't bother her in the slightest. ”And if the other witches don't come after me?” 

Dean gave a half-shrug. ”You solved the murder. Case closed.” 

She opened her mouth to protest, but Sam cut her off. 

”Dean's right. Unless another body drops, there's not much of a case here. As for the grimoire, the safest place for it is ultimately in the bunker, but we'll have to wait to make a move until this whole thing is over.” 

He glanced over at Dean, letting him make the call on how much Claire should know about her midwife.

”Yeah, we kind of have a bad history with magical books and Rowena. She's working her own angle most of the time, and she's powerful enough as it is. We don't need to add more fuel to her fire. Okay?”

Claire looked slightly uneasy but shook her head. ”I won't tell her. Promise.” 

”Good. Sam and I'll go through the pages. If the spell's in there, we'll tell Rowena we found it in the bunker archives.”

”She'll buy it,” Sam said with a sigh when he saw Claire's raised eyebrows. ”The Men of Letters have a long history of stealing from witches.”

 

For a few moments, Claire was disoriented. She wasn't in her motel room or her room at Jody's house, and she couldn't remember why she wasn't. But then she felt it – the heavy weight in the lower half of her body and she was wide awake. She hadn't meant to fall asleep but the pillows were so comfy and she'd been so tired. 

Dean had been shaking her, and she yawned loudly. ”What?”

”She's here,” he said crisply and went to open the door. 

The woman next to Sam was petite, shorter than Claire even, and it made Sam look almost impossibly tall standing next to her. 

”Claire, this is Rowena,” he said and let go of the woman's elbow. She was wearing black gloves and some sort of fancy overcoat that made her look like a character from Harry Potter. 

”It's a pleasure to meet you, dear.” Rowena's voice was sickly sweet, and Claire got a flashback of one of her old caseworkers, back before they wrote her off as a lost cause. 

”Hey,” she tried sitting up smoothly but her balance was way off. 

”Let's see what you've gotten yourself into, dear.” Rowena pulled off her gloves, but before she could reach the bed, Dean had grabbed her by the shoulder. Wow, they really didn't trust this woman. 

Rowena didn't even turn her head to look at him. ”Tell me, Dean. How am I supposed to deliver the baby if I can't touch the girl?” 

His scowl deepened and Claire couldn't help but find the whole situation amusing. ”It's okay, Dean. I'm way overdue on a medical.” 

”Fine, but I'm staying here.” Not that he looked all that comfortable with getting a front row seat to the Miracle of Life either but he let Rowena go. 

”I should – uh -” Sam piped up, and Rowena all but fluttered down to perch on the edge of the bed. 

”A magical artifact that belonged to the witch would help me greatly, Samuel.”

”Oh! I'll get some.” 

Claire twisted her head to watch the silent exchange between the brothers but she could only see Sam's face – relief and embarrassment played across his features, and then Rowena was pulling Claire's sweatshirt up, exposing the full swell of her belly.

Claire didn't like looking at it, and the few times she'd showered (because pregnancy made you stink apparently) she hadn't spent much time washing herself there. It made things easier, thinking of the belly and the bits within as something detached from her body. 

Rowena rubbed her hands together as if to warm them and then pressed both hands against the upper curve. She felt around for a few moments and then a smile broke out on her face. ”Ah, there's the head.” 

Continuing down, she switched hands, using the left hand to feel the contours of the right side of the belly. There wasn't any pain, but something shifted inside Claire as Rowena applied careful pressure. No, not something. _Someone_.

It felt a bit like the flapping of a fishtail and a small bulge appeared on her skin. Rowena looked at it in amusement. ”Nice big toe on this one,” she said. 

”What the –” Dean had been leaning against the table and he stood to attention, ready to charge in and kill something. ”Is she okay? Fucking witches!” 

Rowena let out a pearly laugh. ”That has nothing to do with the spell, Dean. It's completely normal.” She stood, half his size and measuring him up with her gaze. ”I take it you're not familiar with this end of the process?”

Dean glared at her. ”You can slut-shame me later; what's the verdict?”

Yeah, Claire kinda wanted to know that too. 

”The fetus has already turned and is of a reasonable size. I predict an uncomplicated vaginal delivery sometime tomorrow.” 

Claire's fingers trembled on the hem of her shirt.

Tomorrow.

Tomorrow she would push a human being out through her vagina.

”Cool.” 

”The magic,” Dean's eyes darted from Claire to Rowena again. ”Can you remove it?” 

Rowena did a minuscule movement with her shoulder. ”Once I'm able to identify the mother's magical profile I'll be able to bind the child's powers, but as he or she enters maturity they will reemerge. Elemental witches are as connected to their element as they are to their own bodies. Severing that connection would mean death.”

Dizziness crept up on Claire and her heart was suddenly beating quicker. Surely, Dean wouldn't... 

His face was unreadable but he let out a heavy sigh. 

”Just make sure the kid can be born without tearing the house down over us.” 

As comfortable as the bed was Claire couldn't stand to lie there anymore. She had to get out, clear her head a little. 

”I'm gonna get some air,” she mumbled and eased herself up and to her feet. Dean and Rowena had turned to look at her but the whole room was fading, disappearing under another image. 

A long-haired, bearded man was standing in a white room, his half-lidded eyes glowing an unearthly blue. His mouth was moving silently and a jolt suddenly went through Claire. The weird fishtail flapping started up in her stomach and the man turned to look directly at her. 

Words without a voice appeared in her mind and his cold, calculated anger poured into her. 

The baby inside her was attached to a tether and he was holding the other end of it. He would follow the tether straight to Claire, and he would kill anyone who stood in his way. And then... Then he'd cut her open just to get the pleasure of killing the baby with his own two hands. Just as he had killed the baby's mother. There was no stopping him, no hiding from him, and there would be no hesitation or remorse on his end.

”Claire!” 

The image of the man and the white room had faded. Claire was sitting on the edge of the bed again and Dean was shaking her. 

”Don't disturb the poor girl,” Rowena said calmly. ”Now, tell us what you saw, dear.”

Claire forced herself to take deep, gulping breaths of air until she no longer felt sick to her stomach. She saw Dean's worried face and it killed her that she had to let him down once more. 

”It's another witch – the one that killed the first witch. He's got the grimoire and is using it to track me.” 

”Damnit, Claire!” Dean moved away from her and gripped the back of the chair so hard his knuckles whitened. ”You promised.”

”He's coming to kill me and you can't protect me. But she can!”

Rowena looked uncomfortable like she was trying to stay out of the fight. She held one, delicate hand up as though she were a student in class. 

”I was hired for midwifery duties, not magical battle. It's a bit presumptuous of you to alter our agreement, don't you think?” She glanced over at Dean. ”But I might be persuaded to renegotiate, for a fair price....”

”There's not going to be any battle,” Dean said grimly and started checking something on his phone. ”You're going to put up wards, that's what you're going to do.”

”Aye, I can try to modify my standard protection charms to ward off elemental magic but there are no guarantees. I don't even know what element I'm supposed to be warding against.”

”Wind,” Claire said quickly. ”He's tied to the wind element.” 

The anger had drained from Dean's face and he wore a blank expression as he put the phone to his ear. ”Sam?” he said a few seconds later. ”How far away are you? Yeah, we need to move.” 

As soon as he had finished the call, he went for his duffel and started packing up their few belongings.

”Sam's a few minutes out. A tornado just hit Blue Hill, that's where the police station is. Or 'was' may be a better word for it.”

”Was?” Rowena pressed her thin lips together, ”He's that powerful, is he?”

Claire found the strap of her bag and pulled it close. Her gun was at the bottom, full of useless bullets. ”Does it say if anyone died?” 

Dean shook his head because they wouldn't know this early, would they?

”But we need to get as for away from town as possible.” He looked over at the door and Claire knew what he wasn't saying.

All these people –the staff, the guests– they were all in danger because of her. Because she'd screwed up and used the wrong ammo.

”I don't suppose you could be persuaded to let me leave?” Rowena's voice was brittle and high-pitched. She glanced over at Dean and her face fell. ”That's what I thought.”

 

The sun was already slipping down towards the horizon by the time Rowena had finished the warding. The house Dean had decided on wasn't nearly as bad as some of the ones Claire had seen. Dusty, sure, but fully equipped with a couch, table and chairs and a mattress in the single bedroom. The color scheme was bright and there were even a few paintings left on the walls. 

It was clear that whoever had lived here had enjoyed it until they had to walk away.

The water and electricity were off, but Sam took Claire's car and came back twenty minutes later with two cases of bottled water and enough medical supplies that Claire was getting antsy just looking at them.

Luckily, he'd also brought plenty of snacks and Claire slinked off to the bedroom to eat. She finished off her beef jerky and pretzels, and a whole bottle of water before turning to her little experiment. Maybe it was being this close to a witch, but Claire was suddenly aching for the chance to do a little magic. The powers were only gonna be hers for a little time longer, and if she was gonna get one good experience out of this shitty situation, now was the time. 

She unfolded the small bundle she'd brought in, took a deep, steadying breath, and looked down at her belly. 

”Remember, kid, I'm on your side. Stay cool.” 

The waxy red skin on the apple glistened in the last rays of sun coming through the small window as she placed it on her palm in front of her. 

At first, there was the faintest creaking sound and then the skin on the apple cracked in several places as the sprouts came shooting out from within. Claire turned the apple carefully so that none of the sprouts were pointing down and tried her best to focus on calm, controlled growth. The cracks deepened, exposing the meat of the apple that was going brown before her eyes. 

After a few seconds, the sprouts stopped moving and the skin started curling up. The apple turned dark brown and then it shrank so fast that it tickled the skin of her palm. Moisture dripped down her arm and there was a pungent stench of decay. With a yelp, Claire threw the apple on the floor where it rolled over, dead and quiet. 

Her heart was pounding so hard her ribs were aching. She wiped her hand on the floral duvet and wrapped her arms around herself until it no longer felt like she was having a heart attack. 

There was a single knock on the door, and then Dean stuck his head in. ”You turning in already?”

”Yeah, I..uhm. I just got a bit tired.”

”Well, you've got a good excuse. Listen,” he stepped in and closed the door behind him. ”Rowena's set something up that'll weaken the witch's power when he gets close so Sam and I can take him out.” 

Claire went cold all over, and she could barely get her brain to work. ”How – how much will it weaken him?” 

The man who had seemed invincible in her vision had ripped the roof of the police station, broken into the evidence locker and pulverized the building once he'd taken what he came for. Bodies were still being put together like puzzles, but there were five people missing and presumed dead. 

”It should be more than enough for us to put a cap in him before he can get the wind machine going.   
Like you said, there's no hiding from this guy, ever.” Dean gave her a meaningful look. ”For either of you.” 

Claire had to blink a few times before she could see clearly again. ”Rowena?”

”She did her part with the wards. Her job's to help you.” He sighed and his shoulders slumped a little. ”You need anything for the night? Water? Extra blanket?”

”No... wait. Can I have a couple of witch killing bullets? I'd feel better if I was armed.”

He smirked. ”For your revolver, no – unless you wanna blow your hand off. But I have a spare piece I can lend you.”

Claire nodded and scraped the sticky palm of her hand with her thumbnail. She just couldn't stop screwing up, could she? 

 

The sky was blue and the sun was high, unhindered by the few wispy clouds the day had produced. It would have been uncomfortably hot for the children playing below if not for the ample shading provided by the large fruit trees. A group of boys were chasing each other with water guns, shrieking in delight as they soaked each other.

Claire took in the scene and smiled. ”Come,” she beckoned to the tallest boy and held out a candy bar. ”I have a treat for you.” 

The boy skidded to a halt on the grass and turned to face her. ”Who are you?” 

”My name's Mina, I'm a friend of your father. Hasn't he told you about me?”

”No,” the boy eyed her warily. ”I'm not supposed to talk to strangers.”

”Well, I don't want to talk,” Claire sat down on the grass and held up the candy bar at arm's length. ”I just want to give you chocolate.” 

He looked back over his shoulder at the battle still going on and then he shrugged. When he came up to where she was sitting, his nose wrinkled. ”What's that smell?”

”This?” Claire pointed to the smear under her nose. ”It's to protect me from bad smells, actually.”

”Uhm, okay,” his eyes flitted around nervously but settled on the candy bar. ”Can I have it, miss?” 

Claire rose to her feet smoothly and he held out his hand, greedy and impatient. She grabbed his wrist and pulled him close. 

”Go ahead and scream if you like. Your friends won't live long enough to help you.”

Now that she was looking down at him, the similarities were obvious; same nose, same almond-shaped eyes. His childish features were screwed up in concentration and sure enough, she could already feel the gentle breeze playing with her hair. 

Claire shook her curls out and laughed. He wouldn't be at full strength for another decade. 

”Please,” the boy was sobbing, ”Please, please, _please_.”

”Sorry, kid, but you're a broken promise. Your very existence is weakening me.” Claire's hands were tingling as the power built up inside her. ”You've got to go.” 

A body this small was easy to disconnect from life. With a focused thought, she stopped all cellular activity and then she gave the process a little speed boost. 

The boy's wide eyes turned yellow as his internal organs failed. He opened his mouth to scream but all that came out was a wet, gurgling sound as his tongue came loose and fell out. His skin was peeling off like the skin on a baked tomato, revealing rotting flesh underneath. 

Claire let the body fall to the ground where the flesh melted away like butter, leaving only a clean skeleton behind. She wiped her nose. No one could accuse her of not thinking about the environment.


	2. Chapter 2

Dean yawned. He wasn't exactly used to getting a full night's sleep, but getting dragged out of bed after less than an hour sure sucked. Sam had been panicky. Claire was gone.

Rowena had been quick to ask if that meant her work was done, but Dean had sworn, told Sam to watch her and got in the car. It was a good thing he could drive the Impala in his sleep because he couldn't be more than thirty percent awake. 

The headlights trailed the curve of the road and Dean hit the breaks. He checked his rearview mirror, and sure, Claire was sitting on a boulder by the side of the road. Huh. Maybe he'd get a few hours in, after all. 

He backed the car up and leaned over to pop the door open. ”Yo runaway train! This is your end stop.” 

”I'm not coming,” Claire said weakly, and it was too dark to see her face, but it didn't sound like she was prepared to put up too much of a fight. ”I'm done with people dying for me.”

Ouch. ”Listen, Claire, any other day I'd wrestle you, but you're too heavy right now and I'm tired. Please, just get in and we'll talk.”

A few moments passed and then he saw her ease herself up. Her movements were sluggish and it took a while for her to get in the car. No wonder she hadn't gotten very far. 

”You okay?”

Claire pulled the door shut. ”My feet hurt.” 

Dean turned the ignition off and rested his hands on in his lap. The air mattress in the living room was beckoning him and he shut his eyes for a second. ”That's what the ammo was for, huh? Should've known you were up to something.”

”This wasn't a suicide mission. I was going to shoot him,” her tone was muted and Dean felt a surge of pride. 

”Without Rowena's dampeners? Kid, you would have been torn apart before you had the chance to.”

Claire flinched and when she turned to face him he saw that her eyes were bloodshot. 

”He had a son. The other witch murdered _his son_ , Dean. I lived through her memories of... of doing it.” 

She swallowed as if she was repressing the memory and dug her fingers into her jeans. 

”The baby's not evil, but having those memories? It feels like this kid is fucked from the start.”

Sam had mentioned elemental witches passed on knowledge and power to their kids, but memories was a whole other shit show. 

”Look,” Dean said, ”if Rowena can bind the baby's powers, maybe she can bind the memories as well.”

”And then what?” Claire let out a huff. ”The ground starts shaking and she gets a flashback of her mom being a murdering psycho?”

She? Dean was no stranger to projecting your own problems on a situation. He decided to roll with it.

”It would help if she was being raised by people who know her backstory. I'll make a few phone calls in the morning, ask around in the community.”

”What – you mean, hunters? Won't they just treat her like she's a freak?”

”Some of them won't,” Dean paused and decided to get straight to the point. ”Have you considered bringing her back to Jody?”

Claire looked horrified. ”I can't do that to Jody! She's already done so much for me and, you know...” she bit her lip. ”She lost her son.”

So that was the reason Claire was keeping Jody in the dark about all of this. It was touching, really. 

”Claire, Jody's a gold star pupil when it comes to grief management. She's dealt with her loss better than most hunters I know. She cares about you and she wouldn't mind a baby in the house.” He gave a little shrug. ”Don't worry about the money. Sam and I would help you out.” 

Claire wiped her eyes with the back of her hand. ”And I just... become a mom?”

”If you want. It could be your way out of the life.” 

A small, selfish part of him badly wanted her to quit hunting but he shoved that part as far down as he could. This wasn't his call. ”Sleep on it. You can decide tomorrow.” 

Some of the tension drained from her face and she straightened up in the seat. 

”Let's go. I'll tell Rowena she can sleep with me. You get the couch, old man.”

 

Even though her aching body screamed for rest, Claire was afraid of falling asleep. She was no stranger to nightmares, but living through someone else's fucked up memories was something else. Without the buffering effect of surrealism, the emotions were stark and immediate.

Rowena was a complete stranger, but having her curled up on the bed next to her still felt good. Having another body close might keep the baby calm, and it wasn't like Claire wanted any of the guys to sleep with her. 

She settled into the most comfortable position she could find – on her side, one leg up – and drifted off to sleep almost immediately. 

The dreams that came were gentler. There was murder, yes, but it was less brutal and there was also joy and breathtaking beauty. Claire dreamt about growing an orchard in the span of minutes and about riding an earthquake like a wave. She was fully immersed in the magic, one with her element. She called and the Earth answered, rising up to meet her needs and soaking up the love she gave in return. 

It wasn't mastery; it was a dance.

When she opened her eyes the room was flooded with sunlight and her mind was clear.

”Is it already morning?” Rowena sounded half-asleep and very unhappy about it, even as she began to stretch out. 

”Yeah.” Claire flopped over onto her back and stiffened at the loud pop. It sounded like someone had cracked a knuckle and warm fluid started gushing out of her. It was like someone had turned on a faucet between her legs. 

”What the fuck?”

Rowena scurried out of the bed, clutching the edge of her dress like she was expecting a flood. 

”The wee one is getting ready to come out. Hey, boys!” 

Claire pushed herself up on her elbows to get a better look. The gushing had slowed to a trickle, but the bed sheets and her pants were completely soaked. She touched the wet fabric and sniffed her finger. The fluid stuck to her skin and had a slightly sweet smell. Yuck. 

”Is this normal?” Dean was looking at Rowena, who gave a little nod. ”How much longer?”

”Oh, if this was a natural pregnancy I would say anything between twelve and forty-eight hours, but in this case, I have no idea. First, the cervix will efface and dilate about 3 cm, and then –”

”All right, all right!” Dean held up his hand. ”What do you need ?”

”She needs to stay active and hydrated, and most of all,” Rowena turned and smiled serenely at Claire. ”It's important that you stay calm and relaxed.”

Yeah, that sounded super easy. ”Go! I'll be right out.” 

As soon as she was alone and the door was shut, Claire stripped out of her ruined clothes. The leaking seemed to have stopped and she used baby wipes to clean up as well as she could. 

Unfortunately, she didn't have a spare pair of pants with her so she put on the next best thing – pink leggings that she folded up under her big belly. 

Combined with the oversized sweatshirt it gave her an 80's-look, but whatever. She had more important things to think about. Like whether or not walking would cause any more fluids to squirt out. She took a few careful steps and stopped to check herself. So far, so good.

The atmosphere in the living room was subdued. Dean made her sit at the kitchen table and drink a whole bottle of Gatorade in front of him. It was shaping up to be a beautiful day outside and the sun burned through the spray-painted windows. 

”What's the range of the warding?” 

”A hundred yards, or so, according to Rowena. Should be enough.” Dean screwed back the cap of his own bottle. ”You sleep okay? Any more of those dreams?”

”Yeah, but they weren't so bad. Just magic stuff.”

”Stuff?”

Claire closed her eyes for a second and tried to bring up the wonderful emotions she had felt.

”Her powers were amazing. She grew a whole orchard out of a single apple in just a few minutes. She made a mountain crumble just because it was in her way.”

”Uh-huh.” His eyes were narrowed in suspicion. ”Do I have to worry about this, too?”

”What? No, I know the magic isn't mine, but ...” Claire tucked a wayward strand of hair behind her ear. ”She wasn't all bad, Dean. She did some good things.”

Dean wasn't swayed. ”Enough to make up for murdering a kid?” 

”Of course not! I'm just glad there will be some happy memories for _this_ kid to remember.” 

Suddenly, there was a tightening feeling down her front and a dull ache that felt exactly like menstrual cramps. ”I, uhm....”

”Just relax, okay?” Dean sounded perfectly calm. ”Hey, get in here!”

Rowena appeared in the doorway. ”Can you describe what it feels like, dear?”

”Like I'm on my period. It's not that bad, it's – Ow!” 

The muscles in Claire's stomach spasmed violently. It was like being suspended in the top position of a sit-up. 

”It will pass in a minute.” Rowena's voice sounded like a bird chirping. ”Just breathe through it.”

Breathe! Claire felt like she'd taken a punch to the parts of her body that made breathing possible. With intense effort, she managed to make her next few breaths deeper and longer. It was like trying to hold on to an out of control carousel. 

After a few seconds, the clenching eased up. At once, her whole body relaxed. 

”That was a contraction, huh?”

Rowena nodded. ”The first of many. Remember, you must not fight them.”

Urgh. Not fighting wasn't something she knew how to do anymore. Claire heaved herself up, using the table to steady herself. 

”You said staying active helps, right?”

 

The next hour was a bizarre mix of horror and boredom. Every ten minutes or so she'd get hit with another contraction and would do her best to ride the wave of exertion until it ended. 

She found that it was easiest to remain standing, leaning against the wall with her arms above her head. Each contraction lasted a bit longer than the previous one, but she could never guess how much longer. It was like running intervals without knowing how long the intervals were. 

The spell to bind the magic and memories was finished and would be performed as soon as the baby had popped out. Dean had wanted it done straight away, but since Rowena thought there was a risk that it would mess with the spell that sustained the pregnancy, it had to wait. 

As for the risk of all of them dying in an earthquake, she said it was minuscule. The baby simply wasn't powerful enough for that.

When Claire felt the now familiar tightening of muscles she took a deep breath and gasped. The air had turned ice cold and Claire could see the white vapor of her exhale. 

The wall she was leaning on melted away and the steady stream of noises from the other people in the room abruptly stopped as though someone had hit the mute button. 

She turned around and saw frost covered ground spread out in all directions, not a bush or tree in sight. There was a squirming, slithering movement of unrest inside her. 

”Don't worry kid, we're not really here. This is just a---” Claire's teeth chattered and she rubbed her shivering arms frantically. ”Just an illusion of freezing to death. It's not real.”

Something small and soft hit her cheek and triggered a full body memory. Playing in the snow on a cold winter day, drinking hot cocoa from a thermos with her parents. 

The snowflake made new friends as the wind picked up and soon the snow was bad enough that Claire had to protect her eyes. A black spot appeared in the whiteness and got bigger until she could see the figure of the man from her vision. 

Instinctively, she took a step back. 

His eyes had that unearthly blue glow she'd seen earlier and his gaze was focused on something far away. Like a cat listening for a mouse, he moved with purpose; his whole face screwed up in concentration as he scanned the vicinity. A few feet away from her, he suddenly stopped and the corners of his mouth turned up. 

The faint sound of keyboard clattering could be heard and when Claire took a step backward she moved from frost covered grass to carpet. When she realized what was happening –what he was doing– she tried to run towards the freezing landscape but it was too late. Her back hit the solid wall of the house and the air was room temperature again. 

Her body had picked up where it left off and the contraction was building again. ”The witch has found us,” she spat out before she'd be too focused on breathing to speak. ”He's on his way here!” 

The Winchesters exchanged another one of their looks and Sam grabbed his gun and jacket. ”I'll watch the perimeter.”

”Isn't that a two-man job?” Rowena piped up when he left and there was a note of anxiety in her voice.

”And leave you alone with her? Yeah, I don't think so.”

Rowena pressed her lips together. ”This is a matter between women, Dean. As it has been for eons. Whenever men get involved with things they don't understand it ends badly.”

The contraction had finally ended and Claire glanced out through the nearest window. Sam had his back to her and the sky was clear. ”You should go.”

Dean winced. ”Claire...”

”You don't understand how strong he is. He can rip all of us apart with a flick of his wrist. Sam can't take him on by himself.” 

He looked like he wanted to argue with her. ”You shouldn't have to go through this alone.” 

Tears pricked behind her eyelids and she studied the pink patterns on her leggings until she had it under control. ”M'not alone.”

”You take care of her, okay?” Dean was pointing at Rowena. ”Any kind of trouble, you come get me.” 

”I'll take care of the girl, don't worry. Now, off to your battle. Let us women fight our own.” 

As soon as he left, Rowena took out a silver stopwatch from her luggage. ”We should start timing your contractions. Once they're a minute apart, you'll be ready to give birth.”

This time a week ago, Claire had been trying to get a bag of M&M's unstuck from a vending machine. Life just kept throwing curveballs, didn't it?

”Sam told me you were a mom.”

Rowena nodded. ”I lost a child once.”

_Yikes._

”I'm sorry – I --” Why hadn't Sam mentioned that little detail? Claire thought about Jody and the chasm of grief she never spoke about. This was probably a stupid idea, but... ”You wanna talk about it?” 

”My little boy, Oskar, was taken from me. I was never able to avenge his death.” Rowena's voice trembled and her delicate features were tense. ”It's difficult to live with the anger, but I manage.”

Claire thought of Tamiel, whom she'd killed, and Castiel, whom she hadn't. The only reason she had been the one to kill Alex' murderous boyfriend was that Alex was too much of a softie to do it herself. 

”You deserved better.” 

A strained smile spread on Rowena's face. ”Don't worry, dear. I'm used to not getting what I deserve.” 

Suddenly, Claire felt a stabbing pain in her lower abdomen and she doubled over. The other contractions had been exhausting but painless, but this time it felt like she was being torn open. Torn open and looked into.

She grabbed Rowena's arm. ”He's here!”

The pain eased up enough for her to hobble over to the window where she saw the wind playing in the treetops. Sam was off in the distance, a small toylike figure against the landscape. She couldn't see Dean. 

”Are you sure y-” 

With a fizzing sound, the sigils lit up, one by one. The ruby red glow created patterns of color on the floor. This was magic at its most beautiful. 

Rowena was staring at the windows, seemingly frozen to the spot with the stopwatch in her hand. ”Get on the bed,” she said quietly. ”The Winchesters will handle it.”

 

Claire rolled over and tried to let the mattress absorb her shaking. She hadn't had chills like this since she was a little girl, sick with fever, and it didn't help that she was naked from the waist down, the pink leggings and her panties stuffed in the duffel. 

”You shouldn't be on your back.” Rowena sighed and put down whatever she was carrying.

Claire closed her eyes and fought back against a sudden surge of nausea that had moved in to replace the pain. She pulled the blanket over herself. ”You're kidding, right?” 

”The medicalisation of childbirth is no laughing matter. Gravity's the best midwife.” Rowena sounded impatient like she was explaining something obvious. ”There are several suitable positions. Might I suggest sitting at the edge of the bed?”

”'Kay.” Claire slowly maneuvered herself into a sitting position and swung her legs over the side of the mattress. 

Rowena nudged her knees apart and lifted the blanket to take a look. ”You're not fully dilated. If you feel the urge to push during your next contraction, you must resist.”

The most vivid description of pushing Claire had found had called it 'taking a shit with your pussy.' Sounded easy enough to resist. Another dose of nausea bubbled up inside her and Claire took a small sip of water. 

”I might throw up soon.” 

”Give me ample warning to get out of the way and you may vomit as much as your heart desires.” 

Rowena seated herself next to Claire, slender legs crossed at the ankles. She was wearing some kind of sexy black stockings, probably made of silk. Probably held up by lacy garters that made a rustling sound when they were rubbed together.

”I've met Castiel,” she said airily as though she was talking about the weather. ”A couple of times, actually. He's quite fond of you.” 

After all these years even the mention of his name hurt. ”Yeah, well, it's not mutual.” 

”Oh, that's a pity. You mean a great deal to him.”

Claire scoffed. ”He tell you that? Or are you just guessing?” 

A smile played on Rowena's lips and she looked like a child waiting for Santa on Christmas Day.

”It was when we were all waiting for the sun to go out. He asked for my advice, as a _parent_ , on whether to call you or not. There was nothing you or your foster mother could do about the situation, so I advised him not to. He then told me that reuniting with you had helped him understand the imperative to protect your progeny and that the thought of losing you caused him great emotional distress.” 

Emotional distress, huh? He had a lot of nerve... Claire's stomach felt like it was ready to turn itself inside out and she put her head between her knees, resting much of her weight on her elbows. After a minute of heavy breathing, the urge to retch lifted and the nausea rolled back as quickly as it had appeared. 

She got only a few moments' reprieve. The muscles in her stomach tightened and this time it felt like things were mowing downwards. An ache spread from hip to hip and she let out a cry as sharp tendrils of pain reached her pelvic region.

The wind had picked up outside and through the drawn blinds she caught a glimpse of the darkening sky. The killer was out there and the only things that stood between him and her were Sam and Dean and the power of the witch sitting next to her.

 

Dean circled back to the house slowly. The wind was making his eyes dry but there was no sign of a storm or tornado forming. Who knows, this might just be regular bad weather. Maybe Mr. Sturm und Drang had taken one look at the warding and decided it wasn't worth his time.

The house didn't come with a garage but it did have a carport, just enough shelter to keep the snow off of your car in the winter. A gust of wind caused his eyes to water and when he blinked the tears away he saw a familiar figure leaning against one of the wooden beams. He made his way over as quickly as he could while keeping a lookout. 

”Sam!” he hissed when he saw the blood trickling from his brother's forehead. ”What happened?”

”He snuck up on me. Dean, he _physically_ hit me.” Sam looked relieved which was a bizarre sight with all the blood on him. ”Rowena's dampeners are working. He's able to hide in the wind, but that's about all he can do.” 

”Yeah, I was wondering about that.” Dean took one hand off the gun and handed Sam a paper napkin from his pocket. ”Let's widen the search. Opposite directions, we circle out. You good?” 

Sam held up his gun and smiled wide enough to show his teeth. ”Like I'm in an episode of Storm Chasers.” 

 

Claire screamed and let herself fall back on the mattress. What she was going through right now was incomparable to the work-out she'd gotten earlier. The involuntary movements of her muscles were a lot stronger and came with a pain that cut through her uterus like a knife. 

This was a thousand times worse than having your period and Claire couldn't believe that her mother and grandmother had both lived through this. The need to bear down was overwhelming and she dug her nails into her palms to keep herself from giving into the instinct. 

”Please, can't you do something?” 

”I'm afraid nature has to run its course.” Rowena's voice sounded distant above her and when Claire raised her head to look at her, she didn't meet her eyes. 

”Oh God, what's wrong?” 

Rowena looked up and gave her a strained smile. ”Nothing! You'll be fully dilated soon and then you'll be ready to push. I'll take another look in a minute.” 

”Why are you acting so weird?” Claire's cry was cut off as her body clenched up in another spasm.

Rowena winced and looked away. ”I just... I haven't been in this sort of situation for years.” 

”So you're as useless as I am. I thought you would help me!”

Once or twice, Claire had thought about the possibility of having her own children. If there was ever a point in her life when she felt stable enough, if the monster situation was under control, if she had a partner... But she'd never imagined it like this; giving birth in an abandoned house without a doctor or her family to help her through it. The reality cut straight through her badass, tough-as-nails hunter schtick and she sobbed like the little girl she was. 

”I want my mom.” Tears dripped down her cheek and into her mouth and she wanted to keep crying until she drowned on them. At least then it would be over. 

A touch to her overheated skin made her flinch. Small, delicate hands curled around her hips and tugged.

”Hands and knees, child. We're going to do this together.”

 

From now on, Dean would always keep a big old handkerchief in his pocket. Besides giving you that sweet old time bandit look, it would also come in handy when a psycho airbender was whipping dirt around. 

He'd already gotten a grain of sand in his eye which hurt like hell, and he would have been digging dry dirt out of his nostrils if he didn't need both hands on the gun. 

Sam and he had passed each other twice and with each outward turn, the wind had gotten a little bit stronger. 

Further out, and the witch might be able to cook up a tornado, but it would be too far away to cause any damage to the house. 

Dean had to hand it to Rowena; she knew what strings to pull in the fabric of the universe. 

Hold on. He might not have a handkerchief but he did have something else that might be useful. 

With one hand he fished out the old key from the bank and held it up in front of him. The strip of red silk made almost a straight line as it was caught by the wind and Dean trudged on in the opposite direction. With each step, it got worse. 

Eventually, the wind was so strong that it would be dangerous to fire a shot and he made the switch to his knife under great strain. It was becoming a struggle to keep his eyes open, even to walk without falling over. 

Just when he thought he would have to turn back, the dark shape of a man appeared in front of him. 

He lunged forward, using all of his weight to bury the knife just under the man's rib cage. At once, the wind abated and everything became still. Dean instinct was to look for Sam, but that had to wait.

There was a faint glow in the witch's eyes and from the look of concentration on his face, it was obvious his whole focus was on keeping his body upright. Like walking and chewing gum, he couldn't do two things at the same time. 

Dean, on the other hand, could keep one hand wrapped around the hilt of the knife while taking out his gun with the other. 

”I don't get it. You already got your revenge on the person who killed your kid. Why go after an innocent baby?”

”Because it's not enough to kill the body,” the witch said while barely moving his lips. His voice had a slightly tinny quality that reminded Dean of astronauts that had spent a lot of time in Zero-G.

”Our knowledge, our very power is passed down to our children. Killing that monster's offspring is the only way I can eradicate everything she was.”

”Yeah, that's totally normal,” Dean said sarcastically and pointed his gun at the witch's head. ”But see, my family was dragged into your mess, and now we have a problem.”

The witch scoffed. ”That girl is going to die anyway.” 

”What are you saying?”

”I knew Mina when she wrote that spell. The surrogate isn't intended to survive and compete with the natural mother. As soon as the infant has been safely born, your little friend will wither and rot, and there's not a damn thing anyone can do about it.” 

Dean lost his focus for only a second, but it was enough. An elbow connected with his face, and before he could fire a shot, his gun was on the ground and the witch had pulled the knife from his chest. 

Somewhere behind him, Sam was yelling. Dean shouted in reply, but his voice was drowned out by the wind. 

 

”I need a bit of your blood. Where can I nick you?”

”Anywhere. Just don't – don't ask me to move.” There was so much tension and pain in Claire's body that she barely noticed the cut on her arm or the finger that was slipped into her. 

”Good, I can't feel the cervix at all. That's what we want.”

”And the spell? It's going to --”

”Make things easier.” 

Rowena started chanting behind her; long, complex sentences, and a burnt smell wafted through the room. It was sweet and slightly rank, like something rotten had been set on fire. The mixture crackled and fizzled and there was a thud as the bowl was unceremoniously thrown on the floor. 

”It's done? I-- I don't feel any different.” 

”Shh, it will work.” Rowena grabbed Claire by the hips. ”Your body will tell you when to push. Don't force it.” 

Another contraction was already building and this time Claire wouldn't have to hold anything back. It rolled through her with a crushing force and she let herself be dragged along. It was... yeah, that description had been accurate. 

Rowena was digging her thumbs into Claire's hip bones which kind of hurt but also relieved some of the pressure.

”Take it easy. You can do one more.”

Claire pushed a second time and something came loose inside of her. Everything was on the move now and when the contraction eased up her center of gravity was a lot lower. 

Her palms slipped on the bedspread and her arms were shaking under the strain, but she was getting a short breather and she clung to it with everything she had. A few more minutes and this would all be over. 

Rowena's hands disappeared from her hips and there was movement on the bed behind her. 

”Do you want to know the baby's hair color?” 

The wind was howling outside and Claire's borrowed instincts were telling her to dig up a pocket of earth and hide in it. She licked the sweat off her upper lip. ”Nah-ah. I wanna be surprised.” 

An ache was radiating from the base of her spine and she was warm and wet between her legs. Her uterus had clenched up like a hand making a fist and she was gonna let it do whatever the fuck it wanted. When the urge came, she pushed as hard as she could. 

Sharp, burning pain shot down the most intimate part of her body and she couldn't stand it. Not for another second. 

”It hurts! Oh God, it hurts!” 

Cool hands pressed against her cunt and Rowena's voice rang out, calm and clear like a bell. 

”I'm going to control the baby's head. Just relax and breathe deeply.”

Relax? How could you relax when you were about to be torn up from the inside? Claire hadn't asked for this and she was calling it quits, now and forever.

”I- I can't do this. I can't!”

”Of course you can, you're a woman. You can destroy life, you can sustain life, and you can bloody well create life! Now, let your body do the work.” 

Claire was down on her elbows and everything inside her had drifted a little bit further up with the change in position. The acute pain had eased up, but the general direction of movement was still down and out. 

As much as it sucked, there was no way out but through. 

She bore down once more and the burning sensation returned as she was stretched wider than she'd thought possible. Rowena had her in a steady grip and Claire realized she was literally being held together. Haha. 

Just when the pressure started to feel unbearable there was a sucking sound and an immediate sense of relief. Something massive had just given out. 

”Don't push! Wait for your next contraction.” 

One of Rowena's hands had shifted and she was holding something with it; something big and round. There was a slithering rotation inside Claire and then the _someone_ was eased out of her with a gush of fluid. A wailing cry cut through the silence. 

Claire swallowed thickly. ”Is it – uh, normal?” 

”Ten fingers and ten toes and a wee little vagina.” 

”It's a girl?” She turned over carefully and sank down to half-lie against the pillows. Her whole body was tingly and she felt a rush as though she'd just finished a brutal workout. The burning pain had gone the way of the dinosaur and she was suddenly craving a cup of strong, black coffee. 

The baby was an angry red color and was covered with something that looked like the white parts of uncooked bacon. Rowena wrapped the baby in a towel and took it in her arms where it stopped crying as soon as it discovered that there was still some warmth in this cold, bright, new world. 

Claire glanced down at her naked stomach and tried to picture how the baby could possibly have fit inside her just a minute ago. For a week they'd been the closest that two people could ever be, but now, all she felt was the same detached concern she felt for everyone she saved.

Her eyes fell on the duffel where the gun she'd gotten from Dean was still loaded with witch-killing bullets. With enormous effort, she managed to get on her feet but her legs refused to cooperate. She sank back down on the bed just as a spasm wracked her body. 

 

Dean's eyes had teared up from the harsh exposure and since he couldn't see shit he closed his eyes and listened. Hidden in the roar of the wind were the sounds of shuffling steps on dry dirt, and he knew exactly what direction they were coming from.

Moments later, his hands were wrapped around the witch's throat and he was squeezing as hard as he could while pinpricks of static electricity made the hairs stand up on his arms. There was a sharp smell and a sudden flare of bright light. Dean fell to the ground, his ears ringing. 

”You – ” the witch looked back at Dean over his shoulder and there wasn't so much as a breeze.

Blood was gushing down the front of his black coat and his eyes rolled back as he dropped like a sack of potatoes. Ding dong. 

”You okay?” Sam ran towards him and gave him a hand up. ”That lightning bolt was a great marker.”

For half a second, Dean worried about almost being struck by lightning until he remembered what the witch had said about Claire.

Without so much as a word to his brother, he set off towards the house. He nearly ripped the front door off the hinges and charged into the small bedroom without any concern for Claire's privacy or what he would find.

The room smelled of blood and lady parts, and there was a pile of laundry on the floor that he didn't want to look too closely at. 

Rowena was holding a baby at the foot of the bed and Claire was sitting against the headboard, hugging her knees. The flush was gone from her face and her features were sharper. She didn't look exhausted or in pain, in fact, she looked like nothing bad had happened at all.

”You okay? What happened?”

”What happened,” Rowena said sharply, ”Was that I delivered a perfectly healthy infant and suppressed her inherited abilities and memories for the next two decades. You're welcome.” 

Dean swallowed. ”What about Claire? Is she – Do you feel okay?” 

”Of course she's all right, her body has reverted to its original state. I didn't do that; that was part of the spell.” 

Claire threw her hands out. ”I know, right! But I'm not gonna ask any questions, I'm just gonna take my win.”

She seemed so normal, so damn _untraumatized_ that he just wanted to wrap her up in a bear hug. He stuck his hands in his pockets instead. ”The witch is dead. Sam shot him.”

”Yeah, we figured,” Claire jerked her head in the direction of the window. ”Another tick in the box for global warming, right?” 

Something clicked and Dean turned to Rowena. ”It's a girl? She okay?”

”Yes, Dean, on both counts. Do you want to hold her?”

”Oh, I thought you'd never ask.”

Once the baby had been transferred to his waiting arms, Rowena gave some half-assed excuse and disappeared into the living room where Sam was hanging back. 

The baby was covered with blood and gunk but also had the freshly minted smell that all newborns did. She didn't cry but made small whining noises that were adorable. Pretty soon, she was going to get hungry, and they would have to figure something out. 

”Wow, kiddo, you did something awesome.”

Claire slipped down from the bed and walked over to him, but there was nothing in her body language that suggested she wanted to take over. 

”Yeah, I did, and she's beautiful. But she's not going to be mine.”

There wasn't a smidge of hesitation or regret in her voice. This was what she wanted, and damn if he was gonna get in the way of that. 

”I get it, I really do.” He hadn't thought about Ben in months but that gaping wound was still there. ”And hey, now you've done a practice run if you ever do decide you want kids.”

”Good point.” Claire clasped her hands around his elbow and he realized this was as close to the baby as she wanted to get. ”It's going to be so confusing for her when the binding spell wears off.”

”Well, hopefully, the memories will provide context.” Dean lowered his voice to a whisper. ”We'll find the grimoire and take it back to the bunker. It's the safest place for it.” 

Out loud, he said: ”Maybe she'll remember you, too? What you did for her.”

A smile spread on Claire's face and she let go of his arm. ”I hope she does.”

 

Sam handed Rowena the envelope containing her ticket and sat down on the bench next to her. The floral patterned purse went on the ground and he crossed his legs over it. 

”One thing first: the witch told Dean the pregnancy transfer spell was designed to kill Claire. Is that true?” 

”Yes, of course,” Rowena said calmly. ”A very crude piece of spell work. I saw it the moment I laid eyes on the girl.”

Sam ran his hand over his face. ”Why didn't you say anything?” 

Rowena's eyes were icy as they fixed on him. ”Because you and Castiel forced me to murder my child. That's not possible to forgive. _Ever_.” 

”And you thought...” He wanted to shrink away from her scrutinizing gaze, _didn't_ want to think about that time he'd been so desperate to save Dean he had been willing to sacrifice just about anyone. ”But you saved her. Why?”

Rowena tipped her chin up. ”Because I was in her situation once; a young girl, scared and in pain, abandoned by the men who had wronged me.” Her features smoothed out and she clasped her hands together.

”Now, I want what was promised me.”

Right. Sam picked up the purse, opened it and handed it to Rowena. ”The bills are unmarked, I checked. It's thirteen thousand and change.”

”Stealing money from a crime scene. I like this version of you, Samuel,” Rowena said with amusement as her bus rolled up. ”You're not off the hook, and neither is Castiel. But if you pay this well, I'll be glad to do business with you in the future.”

The doors of the bus station opened and a group of teenagers welled out. They all carried trunks and musical instruments and Rowena was caught up among them like a leaf carried by a stream of water. Sam kept looking at her until she was nothing but a speck of red in the bus window. 

 

Dean was a bit nervous as he walked into the fire station. One or two firefighters he could handle, more than that and there was going to be an inquisition no matter what the law said.

Luckily, the place seemed pretty abandoned and the only person there was a receptionist. ”Are you okay, sir?”

”If I understand how this works, I don't have to tell you my name.”

Her eyes widened as she made the connection and he could almost see the checklist dancing before her eyes.

”That's correct, sir. Does the mother require medical attention?”

Thankfully no. He smiled. ”She's being cared for. This is what she wants.”

The woman nodded and got out from behind the counter. She was holding her arms out, ready to relieve him of his burden. ”I'll make sure the baby gets to safety, immediately.” 

Somehow, it wasn't difficult making the transfer. Maybe it was because the woman actually seemed to know how to hold a baby. 

”Do you have a name for the baby that you wish to pass on?” 

”It's a girl, and, yeah. Her name's Claire. ”


End file.
